


Start a Revolution

by cynicaldesire



Category: The Protomen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 14:28:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3854140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynicaldesire/pseuds/cynicaldesire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe attempts to escape the city, hunted by Wily's robot. The robot nearly kills him, but he is saved by a mysterious man on the outskirts. The old man recruits Joe to his cause. But Joe has one final goodbye to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What do you need me to do?

Brown eyes scanned the sparse apartment of Doctor Light. He raised a half-gloved hand and ran it through his short blonde hair and wandered over to the large desk on one side of the room to drop the green helmet of the robot they had just destroyed. He hadn't realized how heavy the helmet was until he was relieved of it. He heaved a short sigh and turned back to the gray-haired man as he milled about the apartment.

The walls were plastered with newspaper clippings, pictures, and blueprints. He couldn't figure out what the blueprints were for; he felt school was a bit of a burden. With robots controlling everything, fixing everything, handling everything, what good would it be to be booksmart? He leaned in closer and read a few headlines on the articles. RESPECTED DOCTOR USED CREATION FOR MURDER

"How did you get out?"

His attention was diverted momentarily, but he did not turn around to the voice. His eyes shifted to the image of a fiery redhead with pouty red lips. She was gorgeous. "Drove, sir." But who was she?

He removed the sunglasses that had protected his eyes during the drive and shifted his eyes to another clipping on the board. "Wily still controls the city, right?"

The voice was dark, desperate, determined. He shrugged. "The old man and his robots have the city in a chokehold, yeah. That's why I left." He looked over the smiling picture of the girl in black and white blocked up against an article. FACTORY WORKER DIES AT HAND OF ROBOT

The grey-haired man's boots tapped across the floor and grabbed him by the shoulder. "Look, I need some answers, kid. You're the only one that can give them to me."

He furrowed his brow and looked the old man up and down. "Calm down there, pops. No need to be freaking out." He remembered the old man's skill with a knife. "Why can't you just go into the city and find the answers yourself?"

The old man grimaced and pulled away. He placed one hand on his hip and pinched the bridge of his nose. After a long moment and a heavy sigh, the grey-haired man lifted his head. "How about this. I already introduced myself." He held out a hand. "Thomas Light. How about you?"

Brown eyes looked down to the oil smudged hands, still stained from the blood of that robot. His eyes flicked to the skull - helmet - for a moment before he lifted his gaze to the old man's weary blue eyes. Those eyes had seen a lot of pain. But there was desperation still evident in the slight quake of the old man's unsteady hand. "Everybody just calls me Joe." He took the old man's hand in a firm handshake.

The old man forced a smile and nodded. "Joe. Nice to meet you. I have this idea, but I need your help with it."

Joe smiled easily back to the old man and closed the arms of his sunglasses to tuck one into the neck of his shirt. "I suppose I should say thanks for saving my life first."

The old man blinked and furrowed his brow. Joe could feel the old man displace himself, watched as his body stilled and his expression darkened. The old man lowered his head slightly and moved over to the blueprints tacked onto the wall. "Yeah, don't mention it, kid." The blueprints came down and moved to the desk where the green helmet - skull - rested.

Joe motioned to the corkboard. "Hey, if you don't mind, why do you have all those paper clippings? The pictures, I get; that girl is gorgeous, but why is she also in those clippings?"

The blueprints were laid out onto the desk and the helmet was shifted to rest on one corner. The paper was smoothed down and Light used a pencil cup to hold down the other corner. "Wily has the city in a chokehold, you said. How would you like to change that?"

Joe furrowed his brow. He held his hand, finger still pointed at the corkboard. "I... would love to, sir, but I was wonderi-"

"WELL DON'T."

The outburst startled Joe. He panted slightly from the shock to his system and blinked at the old man. He dropped his hand to his sides and watched the old man rest his hands on the desk and lean over. The old man's weight shifted absently from feet to hands, to just one leg and hand. "Look, maybe I should get going. I really apprecia-"

The old man turned on him, desperation in his eyes. "No, no, please. I have to do this, you don't understand. This is something I have to do, but I can't do it alone. Please."

Joe furrowed his brow again. "What did you have in mind, pops?"

He shook his head and took a cleansing breath. This seemed to calm him back to the man he had been in the alleyway, the hard man that had saved him. "Wily has control of the city. He needs to be taken out." Joe agreed absently. "That tower in the middle of the city, the one with the giant telescreen, that's what we need to destroy."

Joe glanced back to the clippings. That's what that headline in the center was. CITY SAVIOR FINALLY BUILDS NEW FACILITY. "You seem to know what you need to do, what do you need me for, pops?"

Light lifted his head. "That tower isn't just his new facility, its the center of his whole operation. It is his base, a well guarded fortress. The whole city is alive with eyes and ears everywhere that all feed into that tower. He controls everything from that tower. But he knows me. He'll never let me anywhere near that place." He smiled and motioned to Joe. "That's where you come in."

Joe glanced to the blueprint again. "Got somethin' to do with that thing on your desk, pops?"

Light smoothed the paper down again and flicked on the desk lamp. "Yup. That robot we just took out, I'm going to salvage it's core and put it in this case. It has a timer and shielding an-"

Joe lifted his eyes. "Wait, it's a bomb?"

Light nodded absently. "Destroy the tower, you cripple him."

"Disrupt the feed." Joe nodded. "Will anyone else get hurt?"

Light shook his head. "I have it all planned out. Once we get the core in this case, you just have to ride in to the tower, run it up to the center floor, then arm it and run. You'll have time to make it out before it blows."

Joe smiled slowly. "Take out the tower and free the city from Wily's grasp?" Light nodded to him. Joe grinned and adjusted his gloves. "What do you need me to do, sir?"


	2. You have to answer me sometime, Pops

It was two days later, when Joe was helping Light load up the carcass of the robot that had chased him into a laundry cart they found in the maintenance area of a nearby abandoned hotel. The robot’s body was heavy, but the two of them were able to lift it into the laundry cart. Light pushed the cart.

Joe glanced in the direction of the city, then to his bike. “Hey, Mr. Light, I’ve been meanin’ to ask you something.” He recognized the flinch at Joe’s use of the title “Mister”.

The old man seemed wary, but nodded absently. “Sure, what’s on your mind?”

Joe smiled and motioned to his bike. “Was hopin’ maybe you could look at my bike before the big day, make sure it’s in peak performance.”

The older man relaxed a bit and shrugged. “Robotics are more my expertise, but I could give it a once-over, make sure everything is optimal.”

Joe ran a hand through his hair as he opened the door to the lobby. “Thanks, sir. That bike means a lot to me.” Light pushed the cart across the lobby to the elevator. “Belonged to my Dad. My old man disappeared when I was just a kid, though. But I remember that bike.” The elevator dinged and Light grunted as he pushed the cart into the elevator. “Mom always told me Dad would wear that baby harness thing and strap me to his front so I could feel like I was on the bike.” The elevator creaked and yawned with exertion, lifting the weight of the robot and two grown men. “She always said I was the happiest baby when he would do that for me.”

Light had tuned the kid out when he started talking about his father. The kid was just going to die in a few days anyway. No matter now much he tried to stabilize the core once it had been placed in the bomb he had made, there was no guarantee, with where the kid had to place it, that he’d make it back out alive. He could hope, but there was no way. Why the kid felt the need to act like he was going to survive, why he wanted to share his life’s story, made no sense to Light.

“What about you, pops?” Joe pressed. “What about your Dad?”

Light shrugged again. The elevator was slower than usual. This robot, the one that murdered his Emily, was made from outdated materials, even at the time. It was cheaper, easier to use and bend these metals than anything else. He sighed; he’d have to engage the conversation. “Not much to tell. Died when I was little while working in the mines-”

“He did what? Only robots do that now.”

Light closed his eyes. Now they did. “This was before the robots, kid.”

Joe noticed the old man’s voice was smoother, darker. This was territory he shouldn’t step into. “How did he die in the mines?”

Light moved to push the button for his floor. “He uh… there was a gas build up. They had stopped using canaries to check the levels - replacing them was getting to be expensive, see - so, what my mom was told was that everybody started finding it hard to breathe while they were working and…” Light fidgeted slightly. “Look, is this really important?”

Joe shrugged and shook his head. “S'pose not. Just figured it was time to get to know the man I’m dying for.”

Light jerked his gaze to the kid and stared at him. Joe fixed him with an easy smile and pointed to the digital read-out for the floor. “Almost there, sir.” Light followed his finger and looked to the floor readout. 18… 19… 20…

When the door opened, Joe held it so that Light could get the cart over the distance. He turned it to wheel the cart down to his workshop a few doors down. “I told you it shouldn’t be too hard to get you out of the buildi-”

Joe patted Light on the back. “No worries, old timer, I’ve seen the plan. I know what’s at stake here.” Children like him that grew up knowing nothing but the cold hands of robots instead of the nurturing hands of humans.

Light turned the cart and moved around from behind it. He pulled the keys out of his pocket, grabbed the key for his workshop and shook the rest free. “I didn’t intentionally mislead you…”

Joe took up position behind the cart. “Sure you did. You were trying to protect me. Or trying to make sure I didn’t decline. I mean, how many guys are you gonna find that are willing to sacrifice themselves to save thousands of other people?”

Light smiled slightly. “You’re a true hero, kid, you know that?”

Joe grunted this time and pushed the cart into the workshop. “Naw, I’m just a decent guy. Way more decent than Wily. Or that guy you were following in those clippings. The doctor that killed his girlfriend with a robot? Man, that guy was pretty evil.”

Light set his jaw. “Yeah…”

Joe glanced back despite himself. “Why were you following that trial anyway? Was it the gorgeous redhead? Were you in love with her or something?”

Light flipped the light switch up and illuminated his workshop. In the middle was a flat metal table that had the bomb’s shell resting upon it. “It was a long time ago. I don’t even know why I still have those things up…”

Joe pushed the laundry cart over to the metal slab. Light moved over to a table along one wall and started to clear tools and pieces off to make room for the shell. Joe grabbed the bomb shell and wandered over to Light’s work bench. “Talk it out with me, pops. Like I said, I’m dying in a couple days anyway. I’ll take your secret to my grave.” He grinned playfully at the old man.

Light didn’t turn back. He just took a deep breathe. “The redhead, she was gorgeous. Her name was Emily Stanton. And yes, I am in love with her.” Light turned to take the shell away from Joe and transfer it to the table. “You ever been in love, kid? How old are you?”

Joe mussed up one side of his hair. “Uh, almost twenty.”

Light turned around and rested his hips against the work bench. “Ever been in love?”

Joe pursed his lips. He hadn’t really expected Light to turn the questions around on him. “Well… Maybe?” He wandered over to the cart and motioned to the contents. Light sauntered over slowly, much calmer than before. “She uh… To be honest, I don’t know if anybody in the city understands what love is supposed to be anymore.” They grunted heavily as they pulled the robotic corpse out of the laundry cart. “Got any hints?”

Light chuckled gently. “I don’t know, kid.”

Joe’s hand shot up to rub his eye slightly. “Well, what did it feel like for you? With Miss Emily?”

Light blinked and half his lip curled slightly. His eyes shifted down, but he did not see the robot he built on the slab, he watched Emily smile. “She… she made every day worth it. She was worth fighting through the nay-sayers, the protests. I thought about her at work all the time, especially when she was at work. She had a tough job. She worked in a factory, back before they were manned by robots. Came home on several occasions with bandages on her fingers. I just… wanted to protect her. Always.”

Joe tapped his fingers on the metal table. As Light spoke, he cycled through the girls he had been with. He had been with quite a few now that he thought about it. Relationships didn’t mean a whole lot when robots did everything for you. You didn’t have any money, couldn’t make a name for yourself, couldn’t BE anything. One girl kept cropping up in his mind’s eye though: Cynthia. He got goosebumps just thinking about her.

“Did that help, kid?”

Joe shrugged slightly. “What happened to your girl, sir? To Miss Emily?”

Light’s warm countenance shattered and he turned away. “You saw those clippings. She was killed.”

Joe furrowed his brow; the old man always got cagey around this part. “Yeah, but you gotta know what happened. I didn’t read those articles, just the headlines.”

Light shook his head. “Murdered by some robot, that’s what they say.”

Joe clenched his jaw. “Robots weren’t around during your childhood. So how did that happen?”

Light closed his eyes. The kid was like a dog with a bone. He wasn’t going to stop. He wanted the truth, he wanted Light to admit to it. “Because I built them!”

Joe straightened his neck, tilted his chin up slightly. “You… you’re the one that…? But you said you loved her.”

Light shook his head. “My Dad, when he died in that mining accident, I vowed I would do something to prevent that from happening. I thought maybe if I became a doctor I could treat the wounds. But then I realized; what if I could prevent them from getting hurt? What if, instead of human men, we send down safer equipment and give them better tools and safety. Screw that, how about we replace the men entirely? That way the men won’t be in danger ever? So I built robots. But I needed help with the hardware, so I hired an assistant who was also a doctoral grad. Doctor Albert Wily.” Joe raised his eyebrows. “Doctor Thomas Light and Doctor Albert Wily paved the way for robotics, to save the city.” Light rubbed his forehead. “A city I abandoned after my robot killed the woman I loved.”

Joe looked to the robot. He had said something when he took Joe’s knife from his boot. “This robot.”

Light nodded. “And now I’m going to use this robot to save the city, like I meant to.”

Joe furrowed his brow. “But… this robot? Why did it stay in the city if it was yours?”

“Wily and I built it. I did most of the programming for it, but Wily was the one that installed everything. I had left it in the lab that night. I took a walk, wandered the city for a while that night, worried if I had done the right thing.” Joe looked down to the robot’s small gun. “So imagine my surprise when I notice Wily’s car hidden away in my apartment building’s parking lot and the robot I left in the lab slitting my love’s throat.” Light pointed to the bomb. “That’s why I’m using that. Wily has to pay for what he’s done.”

Joe nodded slowly. Light had let the city fall into darkness using his own creations as the vehicle. A ship made of metal would sink into the depths. This was his only chance at revenge, redemption, and absolution. And Joe was his ship. He lifted his gaze to Light and nodded, determination in his features.

Light wandered back off to the work bench to gather the tools needed to disassemble the robot. Joe looked back down to it. Cynthia would call him crazy, tell him he didn’t have to do this, the city wasn’t good for anything, he ran away. But she’d be crying, desperate to get him back.

“Cynthia.”

Light continued to rummage, metal tools clinking and grinding against each other. “What?”

Joe rolled his head back and looked at the ceiling. “Cynthia. She’s got this beautiful brown hair, gorgeous blue eyes, soft skin…” He chuckled darkly. “And her curves, man… She’s got some killer curves.” Light cleared his throat. Joe leveled his head back out. “I guess she’s the one I’m in love with.”

Light turned back around to Joe and pressed his lips together. After a moment, they shared a smile. “For Emily, then.”

Joe nodded. “For Cynthia.”


	3. One Last Time

The first couple days after he had run off, Cynthia hadn’t really worried. It was Joe, he had spent his fair share of nights in jail for some infraction or another. But when she went to his house after the third day and found it empty, all the lights off, she realized something was wrong. After day five, she started asking around in case anyone had seen him and she had missed him somehow. He had avoided her before, but not to this extent. By day seven, she had started to accept that he had run away.  
  
Realistically, she was sure he had been taken to jail or died along the way, but she hope he had ridden his motorcycle off into the sunset, followed whatever road led out of the city and started new somewhere else. Anywhere else was better than here.  
  
But that didn’t make her lonely nights any easier. Especially with this knew knowledge she had been gifted with a few days ago.  
  
Her eyes scanned the wet streets below. The rain hadn’t let up for several days either, mirroring her mood. The streets lights reflected off the wet asphalt, rings of gold on a pitch dark canvas. Joe would have something poetic to say about them. She squeezed her eyes shut, blinked back the tears and turned away.  
  
Outside, a motorcycle drove under the lights.  
  
She moved into the kitchen and started to tidy up the dishes she had left in there all day. Midday shift had been brutal today. But she had needed a job to pay for her shabby apartment, for her inconsistent electricity, and sometimes brown tap water. She took a deep breath and tried the faucet. “Nope… Still brown today.”  
  
She had morning shift tomorrow. It wouldn’t be pleasant, not with the nausea and aching. She sighed at the ceiling and turned off the faucet. The pipes clunked in the hollow walls. She really needed to get some training for a better paying job and move out. She had always hated her apartment, except when Joe visited. He had always treated it like a palace compared to his home.  
  
There was a light double tap on her door. She hadn’t been expecting anyone. It came again, this time in triplicate. And continued until it sounded like a train thumping along tracks.  
  
Cynthia growled and threw her towel in the sink. She yelled something at the door, but the tapping continued. She grumbled as she twisted her deadbolt unlocked and twisted the knob.  
  
“Why the hell would yo-” Her eyes widened at the sight before her.  
  
“Hey, baby. I know how much you love my musi-MM~!”  
  
Without thinking, without hesitation, Cynthia threw her arms around the wet, blonde, shaggy rebel at her doorstep and press her lips against his in a desperate kiss. Tears welled in her eyes, but these she was proud of. She was so happy to see him.  
  
His arms wrapped around her and she realized why he loved her apartment so much. He made it a home.  
  
—  
  
Hours later, the street lights bathed the bedroom a golden-blue hue. His soaking wet clothes had been peeled off, dropped into sopping piles on the floor that led form the door to the bedroom. His boots had been kicked off absently by the bed, covered half-hazardly in her t-shirt.  
  
She flopped off of him to her side of what had become their bed. Her eyes closed and she giggled slightly. They both panted gently in their contentment. She groped around on the bed for his hand and threaded their fingers together.  
  
“That was a nice welcome, baby.” His voice was heavy, trying to be light, playful.  
  
“Well, I missed you. Where did you end up, anyway?”  
  
There was a short moment of hesitation. “I followed the train tracks for a bit. Started to run out of gas. Was weird, I couldn’t find any gas stations that far out, so I figured I might as well turn back.”  
  
She pressed her lips together, but smiled. “Are you gonna stay this time…?”  
  
The moment of hesitation was longer. “….Yeah. Yeah, I’m gonna stay.” He rolled over finally and moved to kiss her cheek. She smiled and turned her head to kiss him on the lips. They shared a warm, intimate kiss for several moments. His free hand lifted to caress her cheek, as if remembering the feel of her skin, the curve of her cheek. She knew his gestures well enough.  
  
When the kiss broke, she met his gaze. His eyes were heavy with a secret, with the burden of a truth he couldn’t tell her. She knew how bright his eyes usually were, how full of light he was _(I can’t remember the word)_. To see it gone, she knew something must’ve happened. But Joe never lied to her. Something was wrong here.  
  
“It’s okay if you don’t want to stay. If you think I can, I’d like to come with you next time.”  
  
This caused his brow to furrow and he turned away with a small chuckle. “Naw, Cindy-” She growled. “I told you I’m gonna stay. You know I don’t lie to my girl.”  
  
She shifted slightly. His girl. “Joe… If you tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.”  
  
His brow furrowed slightly. “Tell me what?”  
  
She shook her head. “I don’t suppose you would, but I keep track of my periods-” He groaned audibly. She drew back their hands and hit him in the hip. “Shaddap, you! This is important. I have to track them for just such an occasion.” She took a deep breath. “Joe… I’ve missed the last couple periods…”  
  
She watched his face shift from a chuckle, to realization, to that bright Joe that she knew and loved. “Wait, Cindy, does that mean-?” She nodded. His brightness faded slightly, but tears welled in his eyes. He squaled, rather unmanly, and moved immediately to her naked belly. He cooed at it and rested his head on her breasts like pillows. She chuckled uneasily and stroked his hair.  
  
“But uh… There’s something else.” She paused, readying herself for the admission. “Remember a couple months ago when we were separated… for the like seventh time?”  
  
“…Yeah?”  
  
She groaned. “I… I don’t know if it’s yours, Joe…”  
  
She felt his jaw clench. She waited for the retribution, for the hammer of his rage to fall on her head, or the head of the men she had probably slept with. But nothing came. He just continued to stroke her belly, not even showing yet, in silence.  
  
“Did you… hear me, hun?”  
  
“Yeah, I heard you.”  
  
She glanced to her left. “And uh… you’re not mad?”  
  
“Sure, but I’m more happy that you’re gonna have a baby.”  
  
She curled her fingers in his hair, only lifting her hand at the wrist to stroke his head. “I guess… I… don’t know who it would be besides yours. It’s not like I slept with too many other options in the last few months, but… Do you want to raise it together…?”  
  
She felt his mood drop immediately. Something about the question bothered him so deeply that the air became thick with tension. “Cindy, I want you to move in to my house.”  
  
Her eyebrows raised. “I can’t afford-”  
  
“It’s been paid off for a long time.” He moved to sit up. He always looked so different without his ubiquitous sunglasses on. “I don’t want your baby to grow up in a dump like this.” She scoffed angrily; he had always called it a palace. “I want you to take care of the baby and yourself.” He turned around, expression stern. “You understand, Cynthia?”  
  
She shrunk under his intense gaze. He had rarely, if ever, used this kind of voice with her. “O-of course, Joe. Jeez, why are you so upset?”  
  
He blinked and smiled absently to her. “Cindy, can you promise me something else?” She nodded absently. “If its a boy, name it Thomas, okay?”  
  
“Thomas?” He nodded. “That’s quick. What about a girl?”  
  
Joe blinked, his eyes searching downward as if he had never considered that an option. “Uh… Winona.” He nodded with finality.  
  
Suddenly, she heard a chirp from the floor. An electronic chirp that continued a few times. Joe cursed under his breath and untangled himself from her sheets. He groped around on the floor for his jacket and filched around in the pockets. It took him a moment to fish out a small pager-looking device. He spun it around a few times and pressed the button on the top. After a short moment, he started to gather up his things.  
  
“Going already? Why do you have a pager?”  
  
Joe tried to force his foot into his wet jeans. After struggling for a few moments, he designated the act a lost cause and rushed to her dresser. “Yeah. I’ll explain later, baby. But I gotta go.” He was able to pull on a pair of jeans.  
  
“Go where?”  
  
“You’ll see.”  
  
She grumbled. “Joe, what aren’t you telling me.” He grabbed a dry shirt and pulled it on. “Joe?” His boots were hastily pulled on and he grabbed his jacket. But so did Cynthia. His eyes lifted to hers. “Joe.”  
  
There was that burden again. There was a guilt there suddenly when he looked to her stomach. He pressed his lips together for a moment, then tugged on his jacket. She had not anticipated it and fell into his arms. He lifted her face toward his and kissed her.  
  
The kiss was harder, deeper, warmer than anything he had ever shared with her before. He pulled her closer, bodily, as if he wanted to make them one, as if he were afraid she would fly away if he let go. He moaned into the kiss and she felt herself swept up in the passion of the embrace. But just as quickly as it had begun, he pushed her away and spun around. It was only then that she had realized she had released his jacket.  
  
He moved to the door and paused when he opened it. “Cindy, always remember that I love you.” And then he was gone.  
  
Cynthia furrowed her brow and moved to the door. Joe was gone. She heard the motorcycle engine rev, heard it fade into the distance. She cursed under her breath and slammed the door. Infuriating man. There was on thing she wasn’t sure of though. Right before he broke the kiss, she swore she felt a tear on her cheek.


	4. Climb to the Top

There were shards of glass stinging in his legs, blood soaking into the socks halfway down into his boots. He didn’t have time to care. The catalyst for change was in the backpack that he carried, and he had to get it to the spot that the Doc told him. He had to get it at least in the room, the blast would take care of the rest.

Including him.

The elevator chose that moment to shut down. The screams had died down as the humans evacuated the building, but the alarms hadn’t stopped being afraid yet. He heaved a heavy sigh and looked to the door. The door was wide, but it didn’t open in the center with enough leverage, he might be able to pull it open.

He pressed his boot up against the accessible section of the elevator doors and set his back against the frame. He didn’t have time for this. He pressed with all his strength, forcing more blood to seep into his pants and drip onto the floor. He had to get to the 32nd floor. He grunted with the exertion and pushed harder, ignoring the pain to his back as best he could. He had to destroy Wily’s eyes.

The door finally collapsed under his boot, dropping him to the floor abruptly. He yelped and grunted at the pain before looking through the door. Nothing but concrete. He must be caught between floors. Good.

He looked above; usually there was a maintenance hatch or an emergency responder- There. He glanced down to the pack with the robots’ core in it. Along the edges of the elevator were handrails. He could probably stand on that, but how.

He took a deep breath and raised one boot onto the rail. He hopped on his other foot, readying himself for the jump.

_‘Joe, really? What do you think you’re doing?’_

He pressed his lips together, then smirked slightly. He looked back up to the hatch and took another breath. He bounced in time with the alarms for a moment before he jumped and rested his weight on the railing. It was round, barely enough to support him, but he could reach the-

“Shit!” His ass hurt even more. He grunted in pain and rolled over onto a knee.

One he got up again, he realized there was blood in the carpet of the elevator. He glanced to the backpack, but turned back to the railing. There was blood smeared on it with his boot treads on it. He sighed slowly and hopped up onto the railing again. His hands were able to make purchase on the lighting rigs in the ceiling. He used it to keep his balance as he groped around on the hatch.

_'Come on, baby, I know you can get us out of here. Just try to be more careful, okay? We’ll need you in one piece once this is over.’_

He found the latch. It was locked in place, but did not require a key. It opened easily enough. He maintained his balance before he hopped down onto the floor of the elevator.

His legs gave out halfway through and he dropped to his knees again. “Fuck!” He rolled onto his side and felt the bullet wounds in his arm by the shoulder. He let the helmet guide is roll onto his back and pulled his arm over his midsection.

The jacket had been a mainstay ever since high school, one of the few accomplishments to his name. He had been pretty good at track, good enough to join the team and help them win for a few years, long enough to get a varsity jacket. But every school had that stupid Wily patch in the right shoulder, a reminder of who had saved the city.

He groaned and rolled over onto his other arm, the one with his initials and got to his feet again. Blood was soaking into his socks just past the ankle area this time. He grabbed the pack and slung it over one shoulder.

 

_'You’re really going to do it, aren’t you? I guess we can come with you now.’_

The top of the elevator didn’t have anything else that could help him. The door from the shaft to the floor wasn’t one that he could easily open. Easily, pff. The only real option he had was to climb. Something else he didn’t have time for. But there was no maintenance ladder on any wall.

He looked to the thick cable that held the elevator in place. Only real option he had left. He had been pretty good at track, but he had neglected keeping his strength up. Ever since his mother had died, wasn’t a whole lot of reason to get up every day.

He grabbed the cable with one half-gloved hand. “Gotta be better than stairs…”

He bounced a few times before jumping up to grab a higher spot on the cable. He growled slightly as he wrapped his legs around the cable and caught it between his feet to secure himself with it at both ends.

_'See what’s taking so long, will ya, sugar?’_

He took a deep breath and started his ascent. He had like twenty floors to climb, which was proving to be a lot easier than all that jumping he had been doing. One hand over the other, Joe, just keep climbing. He could almost hear his coach now.

The guy had been one of many out-of-work mine workers. He had only been able to get a job as a coach at the school if he was also a teacher. Coach had only told him that when pre-rebellion Joe had asked why there were so many other guys that hadn’t been able to get hired anywhere. Most of the mine-workers that were still unemployed only knew how to work in a mine, none of them had any kind of schooling and without money to pay for college, they would continue to. The only reason he was able to become a teacher was because he had managed not to drop out of high school. “Let that be a lesson to the rest a ya; robots got the monopoly on the physical sh-stuff, so you gotta finish school and make yourselves invaluable some othuh way.”

He groaned under the strain of pulling himself up on the cable. The pack was getting heavy, his arms not used to pulling him anyway, but the added weight of the manipulated core made it that much more difficult. But at least he had gotten up a few more floors. He lifted his feet up, careful not to loose the cable from between them, and raised his hands further up the cable. The metal was starting to cut into his fingers where the half-gloves didn’t protect. He pulled himself up slowly.

The cable twanged as his arms lost strength and he dropped down. His hands slid down a few inches, angled cuts blooming crimson onto his fingers. He panted heavily and swallowed the bile in his throat. His body was reaching it’s limit. He looked up to check the distance to the top, or any other door for that matter. Blissfully, a few more yards up the shaft was another maintenance hatch.

He took a deep breath and pulled himself up again. He didn’t fall this time, but his arms still burned.

_'We’ll be waiting for you, honey. Mostly because you never told me what to do.’_

He smirked slightly. The last few feet decorated the cable with blood, but he pulled himself high enough to reach the hatch in the wall. It wasn’t large enough for him to walk through, but it gave him a moment of reprieve. He didn’t have to rely too much on his limbs for movement.

He followed the hatch all the way to a floor and looked around. The doors all said 30. He needed to climb two more floors. He took a deep breath and started to walk. The alarms followed him down the hall until he found the stairwell. He pushed through the door and his arms started to shake. His legs remained firm under him, but the blood loss finally started to affect his arms. He pressed his teeth together and hissed breath through them. He had to make it.

The first few steps were a piece of cake. The next few steps squelched his socks into his boots, soaked heavily with the blood from his drive through the glass front downstairs. The only reason his arms and head had remained uninjured was the leather jacket - though it had suffered plenty from the bullets - and the green helmet. He was glad he had decided to keep the helmet this far. By the time he reached the second of the four flights or so that he needed to climb, he felt his muscles burn and the cold sweat soaking into his clothes.

He swallowed the bile rising in his throat, his body rebelling against every movement he made, and pushed his way up the second flight. It was on the landing for the 31st floor that he could no longer swallow the bile down and he emptied the contents of his guts onto the floor. He dropped to his knees on the hard linoleum and threw up again, one hand grasping the railing that lined the inside of the stairwell to steady him. His body shook violently, cold and weak from the overworking of his muscles and the loss of blood. He dropped the pack on the floor beside him, and tried to swallow all the saliva collecting in his mouth.

He glanced at the sick on the floor. The smell was threatening to make him throw up again, though he didn’t have much left. He swallowed again and lifted on knee to place his foot on the floor. He used the railing to help lift himself up, but the pack remained on the floor. He blinked and suddenly he was next to it again, on his knees, hand shuddering to grasp weakly at the railing.

His body wasn’t going to make it. Even if he wanted to, his body just wasn’t up to all the things he had put it through. Despite her faith in him, Joe was going to fail.

_'You think this is bad, try doing it for like 9 months straight. I mean… I know how it feels, baby, but you’re so much stronger than I am. You can make it, just one more floor.’_

Morning sickness. That’s right. He swallowed and panted again, lifting his head to find some cleaner smelling air to breathe. He couldn’t fail, not when there was so much at stake. Even though he had the whole city the think about, there were only two that mattered.

He grabbed the pack and threw it over his shoulder. He used the railing to lift himself and skirted around the vomit on the floor. He chuckled absently as he climbed the next flight of stairs, his body shaking slightly.

The fourth flight was by far the easiest, he climbed it two stairs at a time. Once the door was opened, he saw nothing but glassed in areas. The glass was dented with fractures that spread outward from a point, almost like a bullet in shatterproof glass. He couldn’t quite make out what had been inside the glass sections, but that didn’t much matter now. He had to get to right spot and plant the bomb.

He flipped the pack around and rummaged around in the front pocket for the map. Once he produced it, he pressed his lips together. It had gotten smeared with blood, making it difficult to read. The lights in the hall were finally starting to shut down in response to the intruder. Either he had been there too long, or he was moving faster than he thought.

He tried to wipe some of the blood away on his shirt to make the map readable again. It worked well enough and he stumbled down the hall toward his target. He had to break the keypad in order to open the door, but he was able to make it into the room behind the screen.

He took a deep breath and moved past the threshold. Wily’s eyes were just beyond that glass. The end of his long fight was coming to an end. The catalyst would free the city from Wily’s tyranny.

That’s when he heard the typing. The click of keys was accompanied by muttering and shortened breathe. He turned toward the sound and knelt down to recover the blade he always hid in his boot.

At a computer was a woman struggling to click and type fast enough. What exactly she was doing was beyond him, but she was one of Wily’s scientists, one of his goons controlling the robots that controlled the city.

“Shit!” She shrunk back behind the desk but her fingers continued to fly over the keys.

He nodded and held the knife out in her direction. “That’s right, 'shit!’. There was a full employee evacuation. Shouldn’t you be outside by now?” His voice sounded strange through the helmet, echoed inside and distorted slightly.

She shook her head. “Th-these… These files need to… Without them, ah…”

He shuffled closer to her, leaving bloodstains on the crisp white floor. “Without them the city will be better off, trust me. I’m giving you one more chance to get out of here. Then this bomb is going to be the last thing you see.”

She lifted her head over the desk and flashed a pair of blue eyes at him. He pressed his lips together again and sighed heavily. “Okay, look. How about we make a deal?” Her brow knit together and her eyes started to water. “How about you do me a favor for letting you get out?” She blinked the tears from her eyes and he felt the tightness in his chest. He groaned and dropped his arm holding the knife. “Just… I need something taken care of, but I couldn’t find the time. All you would have to do is get something to a lawyer. That guarantees your safety, doesn’t it?” He wouldn’t be held responsible for killing someone, even if they were one of Wily’s goons.

She pulled herself up slightly and he finally took note of her red hair. “Why?”

He raised his eyebrows and placed the knife on the desk between them. “Why what?”

“Why let me live…?”

He shook his head. Why indeed. “I didn’t break in here to kill anybody, lady. Just… maybe this will serve as a lesson, hm?” He had to get the envelope. But his hands were so bloody. “There’s an envelope in this bag, in this pocket. Reach in, grab it, and run down the stairs.” He sniffed and chuckled slightly. “Be careful, there’s some vomit a couple floors down…” Her brow furrowed.

“That’s it? And you won’t hurt me? You’ll wait for me to be clear-”

He narrowed his eyes. “I can’t wait that long. You do your best to get out. The bomb will take out several floors above and below,” the words that the Doctor had told him, “but it probably won’t take out the main support structure enough to collapse the whole building. So you get down as fast as you can.” He held the pack out to her. “A woman in your position still has the luxury to hope.”

He could see the pain his words caused her, how guilty she felt being one of the privileged few. But he also knew that she only felt that way because there was no way to hide from it. Her worst nightmare was right in front of her, a rebel from the shittiest parts of the city threatening her life and accusing her of elitism. She reached in and grabbed the envelope he had requested and started to open it.

“What the fuck are you doing?” She froze and shrunk back from him. “Get the fuck outta here! Shit is confidential! Just get down as fast as you can, get that shit to a lawyer, and live out the rest of your days!” She nodded and ran away two steps.

“But the fi-” He grabbed the knife again and she squeaked before her heels clacked off into the distance.

He took a deep breath and dropped to the floor. The desk served as a comfortable back support. He tried to lean his head back, but the helmet kept it fairly upright, not enough to let his muscles relax.

Not that it mattered much. He patted the pack with the bomb inside. He needed to wait a bit for that woman to get her heels down a few floors so the blast wouldn’t screw up everything. It was also on a timer, thought the Doctor had never told him how long it was. Maybe that meant there wasn’t one.

_'You did it, baby. You made it. I’m so proud of you.’_

He smiled and reached into the pack to extricate the bomb. How different would everything be once this was over? Would the robots be used to supplement the miners so that it was safer but more people were employed? Would the people get rid of them completely? Would the borders finally open up? Would Cynthia be okay as a single mother?

He hoped it was a girl. Girls usually had it a little easier in this city. The men were expected to do physical labor, but with robots to do it all, they had no other way to make money. Women, women could cook and clean, could make art and take care of the injured. Women also sold themselves for sex, but his little girl wouldn’t do that. She would be amazing. She would change the future of this city, just like her Daddy.

Something streamed down his cheek. He had started crying again. He didn’t have time to regret this decision, he couldn’t. Knowing he was leaving behind a woman that loved him and a potential baby that was probably his had no impact on his decision. Why should he care about some entitled little brat that would expect Daddy to provide everything? Some kid that expected him to… to be a wonderful, loving father and teach him how to play baseball or climb the rope so he can win medals and shit to surpass his old man. Some little boy that would learn all the science and robotics so he could follow in the Doctor’s footsteps the right way, not like Wily. Someone who would change the way the city felt about robots, like his little girl.

He had to stop thinking. He was doing everything he could for them. For Cynthia and their baby. He would leave them a city free from Wily, and everything else he had to his name. It would at least be enough for Cynthia to stop paying rent on that shitty apartment that felt like a home. Maybe then she could afford to go to college and find a better job than the one she had. Or at least she could save up for college for the baby.

That woman probably had enough time now. He lowered his head to look at the bomb. Blood had pooled around his legs, threatening to soak into the bag. He turned the robot core bomb around a few times before he found the switch the Doctor had told him about. He poked it and a little digital clock lit up. 60 seconds started to count down.

Hopefully that woman was free and would take his envelope to a lawyer. He wasn’t sure if it would even be valid, but that was all he had. As long as she didn’t break the seal, they should take his Last Will and Testament.

_'Thank you so much for everything, Joe. I know you’ll always love me. Remember that me and the baby will always love you, too.’_

He smiled and closed his eyes. His chest shuddered with silent laughter. “I love you so much, Cynde…”


End file.
